


Synnecrosis

by silkinsilence



Category: Avatar: The Last Airbender
Genre: Child Abuse, Emotional Manipulation, Emotional/Psychological Abuse, F/F, Father-Daughter Relationship, Implied/Referenced Homophobia, One Shot Collection, Parent/Child Incest, Self-Harm, Unhealthy Relationships
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-03-13
Updated: 2016-07-01
Packaged: 2018-05-26 09:58:02
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con, Underage
Chapters: 12
Words: 12,241
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6234172
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/silkinsilence/pseuds/silkinsilence
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Azula pushes. Mai waits too long to push back.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> A series of (hopefully) 60 1000-word fics charting a Mai/Azula relationship mostly adhering to canonverse. As always, comments greatly appreciated!

* * *

 

It's a lot harder to throw straight when Azula is watching.

Her hands are a little bit sweaty, and that little bit is enough to knock her aim off; the knives all leave her grasp too soon, and she's lucky when she manages to hit the targets at all. She's been getting better, getting pretty good, actually, but pretty good means nothing when she can feel those eyes boring into the side of her head.

"If that was an enemy soldier, you'd have gotten him right in the kneecaps," Azula says. Mai doesn't need to turn her head to know that she's smiling. Azula's always smiling. Life is one big joke when you're a princess, isn't it?

"I'm not joining the army," Mai mumbles. She throws the next one with extra force. It misses the target completely but buries itself in the wooden fence behind it. The sound is satisfying. Knife meets wood. Would it sound the same in meeting flesh?

"'Course not. Noble girls don't join the army."

It's creepy to hear her say that. Mai's mother says the same...said the same, the one time Mai dared to ask. She never wanted to join, not really, anyway. It just seemed like something easier. There would be someone to tell her what to do, and nobody would reprimand her for not smiling enough. But that idea quashed itself soon enough. Her future isn't in the war. Her future is here, a tiny world, sitting at her mother's side and perfecting every useless art in the world. Drawing lines of ink across paper instead of drawing lines of blood across skin.

"Neither do princesses." She's out of knives, so Mai heads across the field to retrieve them. She picks them up one by one, and her fingers slide along the sharp edges. They only cut when given force. They're benign under her careful touch.

On her way back she has to look at Azula, perched on the wooden railing surrounding the field. The princess is still staring at her, still smiling. Doesn't she have anything better to do? Mai would love to tell her to go away, to leave her alone, but those words will never escape her lips. It does not matter how uncomfortable Azula makes her. It does not matter that her hands are sweating and there is a pit in her stomach. She can't be rude to the princess. Her parents would flay her, if Azula didn't first.

_Don't rock the boat don't think about it just let it go—_

Life is enduring in silence.

"I won't join the army. I'll command it." She looks so small, sitting there on the fence, that it's almost ludicrous to hear it coming from her. But there is nothing but intensity in Azula. She is conviction personified. That much Mai has learned from their brief acquaintanceship.

"Is that what princesses do?" Mai asks the question dully, already knowing the answer. No. Azula's life will be like hers. An assortment of graces fit for noblewomen, marriage, children. Zuko will see battle. But as the second child of the second prince, Azula's fire will go to waste.

"I don't care if it's what princesses do. It's what I'm going to do."

Mai begins throwing again. Her second knife manages to embed itself only a few inches from the center of the target. Her lips flick upward. This small victory feels better than the most beautiful characters she's drawn under her mother's supervision. Even in a life as comfortably privileged as Mai's has been, she has learned that forbidden fruits taste the sweetest.

"Oh, that was good," Azula says, sounding more amused than surprised. "Where'd you find someone to teach you?"

"Nowhere. I'm teaching myself." Predictably, the princess's interjection throws Mai off, and her next knife misses the targets altogether. The brief flare of victory fades.

"Where'd you get the knives?"

"I bought them." Mai knows the words came out too aggressively the instant they've left her lips, but it is too late to take them back. This is supposed to be _her_ time, stolen moments practicing on school targets intended for firebenders, and now the princess is commandeering these few precious moments and insisting on interrogating her. Mai just wants to throw and throw and throw, not feel that presence hovering behind her left shoulder, not construct careful answers to a steady stream of questions.

The steel is cool and sharp under her fingers.

"Why?" Azula's tone hasn't changed. Mai wants to look and see if her expression is still the same too. Has her rudeness passed without incident?

"What do you mean, why?"

"Doesn't seem like a good habit for a girl who says she's not joining the army, is all." Mai finally does look. The princess is as unruffled as ever. She smiles when Mai meets her eyes.

Mai doesn't know what she wants. She doesn't know how to answer, so she doesn't. She turns her back on the princess and keeps throwing. She doesn't think Azula would turn her in. What would she have to gain?

"You can come practice on the royal training field, if you want."

Her finger slips and there is blood as the knife leaves her grasp. It manages to hit the edge of the target anyway. Mai winces and looks down at the red beading up on her index finger. For such a small cut, it hurts a good deal, but what Azula said is more important.

"What? Why?"

"You're pretty good. It'd be a waste if your parents stopped you before you had the chance to learn much more. They wouldn't stop you from coming to the palace, would they?" Azula has tilted her had to one side. Her eyes are wide, her face guileless.

"No," Mai manages.

"Then do it. And I can watch you."

The friendship her parents wanted has dropped into her lap. Mai wants to turn her back and run. She does not want this.

She bows. "Thank you, princess."


	2. Chapter 2

"Who is she?"

Azula's attention is more for the scroll in front of her than for her brother. The assignment is an essay on the Fire Nation's technological advances since the start of the war, and she managed to find a pertinent writing from one of Sozin's engineers squirreled away in the palace's library. Attempting to decipher the diagrams and the handwriting is enough of a challenge without Zuko distracting her.

"What?"

It's some sort of engine, she thinks; though this man's penmanship is nearly indecipherable, the accompanying drawing seems to depict a firebender powering the device.

"The girl who keeps coming over. The one who's not Ty Lee."

As if at the flick of a switch, Azula's focus changes targets. She looks up from her homework. Zuko is staring expectantly at her.

They are kneeling together on cushions about a low table while the afternoon breeze carries the chill of autumn in through the open windows. A teapot and tray of cakes sit between the two of them. It is routine, both of them home from school, workloads spread before them. Azula always finishes first, even on the days when her teachers give her advanced assignments in the futile effort to challenge her. Zuko says it's because she's two years behind him and her work is easier, and Azula asks whether that's why her marks are higher too.

"Why do you care?" Her fingers tighten on the brush. She doesn't like hearing Zuko talk about them. He has his own friends over sometimes, Ken and Zeito and other ones whose names she can't be bothered to remember. Mai and Ty Lee are _hers._

 "Just wondering." Zuko writes something down, clears his throat, and continues. "I mean, it's good you're making friends at school."

"Oh, shut up." Her cheeks flush a little. She can't _stand_ when he talks like their mother. One Ursa lamenting Azula's (lack of) social life is quite enough. She doesn't even really know how she feels about Mai and Ty Lee, if _friends_ is even the right word. The idea of having people beside her is one that doesn't quite mesh with Azula's vision of herself, a vision where she stands alone and strong and aloof.

Like their father.

"So who is she?" Zuko's smiling slightly, which annoys her more.

"Her name's Mai. Her father does something with money...with the treasury." Azula gives up the information reluctantly and then feels uneasy about it. "She goes to my school," she adds unnecessarily.

"She looks older."

"Hm." Azula doesn't want to talk about it anymore. She returns her attention back to the scrawls on the paper in front of her. Solving problems. Untangling mysteries. _Not_ sharing her new person with her brother.

* * *

A week later and she smiles when she sees Mai across the training field. The other girl has taken her up on her invitation quite a lot, and Azula sort of looks forward to seeing her. Mai never talks much, just throws and throws and improves bit by bit. Azula moves through her forms and wonders whether Mai watches her. Why wouldn't she? Azula is well-worth watching. They train side-by-side. Azula imagines she can feel a bond there. She doesn't catch herself imagining.

She is smiling and making her way over when she sees that Mai is smiling too. She has never seen Mai smile before, especially not like that, and Azula's eyes move onto the person to whom Mai is speaking.

The smile wipes itself off the princess's face when she sees her brother. Fire blossoms into life around her fists, though she didn't will it into existence. There is a very bitter taste in her mouth. Why is Mai smiling? Why should she smile for Zuko? _What does he have that Azula doesn't?_

She waits, for what she doesn't know. She is a tiny stormcloud hovering by the peristyle, fifty pounds of anger with no target. She doesn't know how long they talk, but she stands until she sees Zuko raise a hand in farewell, sees Mai give a bow, and only when her brother is gone does the smile leave Mai's face.

Then she stalks across the field. Her temper is probably showing, but she doesn't care enough to hide it. She sees the wariness on Mai's face and it only makes her angrier. If Mai doesn't want her to be upset, she shouldn't do stupid things like talk to Zuko and smile at Zuko and laugh with Zuko.

"I met your brother," Mai volunteers, and it is perhaps the first time she's spoken to Azula without being asked a question first, and of course it's about Zuko.

Azula says nothing. Her fireballs hit the metal mannequin with deadly accuracy.

"He's nice."

_I invited you over I let you use the field I talked to you first you wouldn't know him if it wasn't for me why is he nice why won't you smile like that for me_

"He's stupid," she snarls. Her eyes are burning, but she can't be about to cry, not over something like this. She can't be this invested. She hasn't known Mai a month, and she would be the stupid one if she cared that much. So she pushes it down, tries to pretend there isn't something rotting in her throat, tries to pretend that she isn't feeling anything because she shouldn't be feeling anything over something as insignificant as this.

That night she lies in bed and hears quiet voices from the room next door. Ursa and Zuko, together, always together. She twists her sheets around her hands and bites down on her lip and tries to forget her anger.

She could find Father, but she's not a little girl anymore and she wants him to see that. No more running to him for comfort.

So she listens to the familiar voices from the next room.

And who _wouldn't_ rather have Zuko than a selfish careless cold weird creepy little imp who burns everything she touches?


	3. Chapter 3

Azula's back is turned, but there are plenty of other eyes bearing down on Mai. She never knew that portraits could stare with such intensity. The former Fire Lords all glare at her, the painted contours of their faces made more menacing by the torchlight. She looks from one side to the other as they pass Sozin, his father, his grandfather, his great-grandfather...faces and names she has seen in school, but never seeming as alive and real as now.

If she was alone, she would walk along the side of the wall, as close to the edge as possible, perhaps with a hand against the stone to reassure herself that it was there. But Azula walks straight as an arrow through the center, never veering off-course. She doesn't look left or right, and Mai wonders how often she's been here before.

Finally they reach the end, portraits so aged that their ink has faded and the canvas is yellowed and worn. There is a raised dais at the end of the hall, an altar upon it. Two beautiful statues of golden filigree curl around each other: a phoenix and a dragon, locked together for eternity. Incense burns in a censer, but there are no more candles here. Mai appreciates the shadow.

Azula seats herself on the stairs, and Mai follows. They stare together back down the long hall of portraits. All red and gold, ancient kings, many of whom probably sat where the two of them now sit. Mai feels very small.

"Well, I thought it was time for you to meet my family," Azula says, and waves around at the paintings. Her voice is quieter than usual, but still it seems unnaturally loud in the silence.

Mai snorts despite herself, but Azula doesn't smile. She's been in a worse mood lately, Mai thinks, smiling less, anyway. Mai hasn't asked. She's told herself it's because she doesn't care enough to ask and _not_ because she's too afraid to ask.

"An honor."

The smell of incense is very heavy. It sits in Mai's nose until she's sure she's going to get a headache. It makes her a little sleepy, too. Outside it's still the afternoon, but in here, far away from the sun or windows, it could be the dead of night. Time means nothing.

"I like it here," Azula says, after a silence just long enough to be awkward. "Nobody else really comes down here."

"Do you know who all of them are?" Mai could name a handful, but there are just too many. Generations upon generations of Fire Lords glowering with fire in their hands.

"Of course. Kazei, Izei, Hizama..." Azula points at the ones nearest to them before her voice trails away. She frowns. The silence deepens. Mai can hear her own slow heartbeat. She imagines she can hear the crackling of the fire in the torches. The incense and the silence might be relaxing, but she doesn't think she could ever feel comfortable in this place.

"So someday your uncle's portrait will hang here," Mai says.

Azula gives her a look. "He doesn't deserve it."

"He's the crown prince."

"He's _weak_."

"He's conquering Ba Sing Se."

"Not _well._ Look how long it's taken for him to get this far. If it were my father there, the Earth Kingdom would be on its knees by now." Azula hits the stone step with her fist. The noise sounds painful, but the princess does not flinch.

These are treasonous things to say, aren't they? Mai doesn't know how she feels about that. Maybe it should shock her, repulse her. But she feels nothing. Prince Iroh is an abstract concept to her. She should feel loyalty to him, but she feels nothing.

"What are we doing here?" she asks, the question she's wanted to ask all along. Azula raises her eyebrows. Asking is unusual. Mai is so content just to do as she's told.

"You and Zuko seem to get along well," Azula says. It is and isn't an answer. Her voice sounds weird, sounds forced, the casualness of it hiding something real underneath. She isn't as good at masks as Mai...or maybe Mai's just gotten good at reading people.

A pit opens in her stomach. Azula knows. Of course Azula knows. Mai is apprehensive now.

"We've spoken."

"It looks like more than speaking," Azula says. The pretense of apathy rapidly disappears from her voice. Mai has not seen Azula angry before.

"What's that supposed to mean?"

"Laughing. Smiling." Azula isn't looking at her, but even in profile Mai can see the princess's eyebrows furrow.

It is such a silly thing to be upset about that Mai almost wants to laugh, but she knows Azula well enough to know that would be the worst possible response. She bites her lip as several options flash through her head.

"He's easy to talk to."

"That's _all_ he is," Azula says. "He's not smart or good at firebending. He doesn't have any common sense. He doesn't even try hard."

The pit is growing larger. Mai has only had a couple of conversations with the prince, but even so, she wants to defend him. Her heartbeat is no longer calm. The smell of incense is really starting to make her feel sick. The Fire Lords of the past stare down on their juvenile argument.

"He's kind. And...open." She keeps her voice flat, like she's not invested.

"Who _cares_ about that?" Azula stands. She takes a few strides forward. Mai remains sitting on the steps.

"Maybe you should care more about that," she says, and the exhilaration of speaking her mind is almost worth it for the split second before Azula turns around.

The look on Azula's face is something more _human_ than Mai has ever seen there before, and then she realizes that maybe this was about as simple a thing as jealousy.

"Maybe I should," the princess says, and then she strides away. She has disappeared at the other end before Mai stands up.


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning for mention of Ozai/Azula in this chapter.

The sense of giddy unreality has not left her.

It has been almost a month, but still Azula has hardly come to terms with it. Her mother has disappeared overnight. Her father has taken the throne. Suddenly everything is different.

Everything is _better._

"I bet you could fit a dozen komodo rhinos in here," Ty Lee says. She's sitting on the bed, bouncing herself up and down, almost annoyingly excited as she looks about the room. It's the first time Azula's had them over since it happened. She's still getting used to her new chambers. Everything is older and more ornate here. The ceiling is surely ten times her height. It smells of wood and dust and polish, a smell that has slowly faded since she moved in but not completely disappeared.

These were Lu Ten's rooms. She's been trying not to think about that too much. She can't remember much about her cousin, just snippets and impressions, a smile that always looked like he was trying too hard. It's weird to think about him sitting at the desk where she does her schoolwork now.

She remembers liking him, though it was years ago when she last saw him. But he got himself killed in battle, so he must have been weak. And if he was weak, she was wrong to like him.

Right?

"Isn't it nice, Mai?" Ty Lee says, finally springing off the bed. She is all smiles, seemingly more excited about the changes than Azula is. Her enthusiasm is vaguely repulsive.

Mai has been standing beside the open doors to the balcony. She looks around, unsmiling, as if annoyed to have her silence disturbed.

"Yeah, it's...weird," she says finally. "Not the room. Just everything."

"What's wrong with _you_?" Azula asks. It's not like it's Mai's cousin and grandfather who've died, her mother who has vanished.

 _You are not to leave your room until tomorrow. Do you understand me, Azula?_ She remembers Ursa's fingers digging into her shoulders.

And then she was gone.

Azula doesn't miss her. She _doesn't_ miss her.

"Ever since the coronation, my parents have been..." Mai looks at Azula, away again, and then shakes her head. "Never mind. It's nothing really."

"You can't leave us hanging like that," Ty Lee reproaches.

Mai's gaze lands on Azula again and she shrugs.

"Well, you know, now Zuko's the heir, and they're always looking for ways to strengthen ties to the royal family." She tries for nonchalance, but Azula can hear the barely-concealed bitterness in her voice. Mai cuts herself off and looks away as if she's said too much.

"And here I thought you'd be thrilled at the chance to tie yourself to my brother." Azula tries to pretend her heart isn't beating faster. She tries to convince herself that the thought doesn't really bother her. Of course she's considered what her father's ascension means, but the idea of Fire Lady Mai sitting at stupid Zuko's right hand is an ugly one. She laid eyes on Mai first, she spoke to her first, and Azula doesn't understand why everybody else is so _incapable of respecting that._

"Azula—" Mai looks annoyed, but she bites back whatever angry response almost slid off her tongue. "You're making a big deal out of nothing."

"A throne _is_ a big deal, Mai," Azula says. "Too big for Zuko to handle."

"What about if you were Fire Lord, Azula?" Ty Lee asks, her smile as wide as ever as she steps between the two.

"If I was Fire Lord?" Azula bites her lip but smiles anyway. It's silly daydream to indulge in, but once she's started she can't stop. She remembers the heavy plates her father wore at the coronation, the crest that now adorns his head. What would it look like on her? What would it be like to stand on top of the world? "I'd make the Earth Kingdom kneel, and then I'd raze the Water Tribes. And my portrait would hang beside my father's."

"You'd be the most beautiful, smartest, most powerful Fire Lord ever, I bet," Ty Lee says. Her smile flickers for a moment, but Azula does not notice it. The words remind her of something else, something that snaps her out of her daydream.

_"You're so beautiful," he sighs, and the words tickle her ear and her chest and her throat, and her head feels weird, caught between elation and terror or perhaps simply unrecognizable discomfort. His fingers are hot and moving and sending sparks through every inch of her._

_She did not know she could feel like this._

She's been trying not to think about it because she doesn't know _what_ to think about it. So she pushes it down and keeps smiling and pretends she didn't remember anything at all.

"Maybe I'd make you my Fire Lady," she says, and she wraps a hand around Ty Lee's braid and tugs. Ty Lee's giggle turns into an exclamation of pain, but her smile remains.

"You couldn't. You're both girls." Mai sounds testy. She's still hovering by the balcony like she wants to jump off. Like she doesn't belong inside. Maybe she's just feeling left out.

"If I'm Fire Lord, who's going to stop me?" Azula asks, and she smiles at Mai now. "I know you're used to doing whatever your parents tell you, but I'd rather burn my own path."

"I don't just do whatever my parents tell me," Mai mutters. Azula feels a thrill of victory. She likes getting Mai to show emotion.

(She'd rather she smile, the way she did for Zuko, but making her angry is almost as nice.)

"It seems that way," Azula says. She takes a step forward. Mai is already against the wall, so she can't back away. "If I was Fire Lord, and your parents wanted you to marry me, what would you do?"

"Maybe," says Mai, turning her head away, "I would say no."

"If I was Fire Lord," Azula smiles, "you wouldn't have a choice."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Comments greatly appreciated!


	5. Chapter 5

She gets tenser and tenser with each progressive throw, not noticing that her teeth are digging into her lip or that every muscle in her body is taut. The only thing that remains unchanged is her face. As always, she is fixed on the target, not smiling, not looking away.

All six hit.

After the last satisfying _thunk,_ Mai lets the tension drain out of her.

"That's impressive."

Mai feels the breath tickle her cheek, and in the blink of an eye she is more on edge than she was while throwing. It takes an effort not to jump. It's been getting harder and harder not to react, or maybe Azula's just been getting bolder and bolder.

The princess has changed. It doesn't take proximity to realize it, though maybe it helps. There is something darker in her eyes now. She hasn't spoken to Mai about the night when Ursa left, and Mai can't help but wonder. Without Ursa, the only person left who can control Azula is Ozai, and though Mai doesn't know exactly what traits the Fire Lord is encouraging in his daughter, she knows enough to guess that they aren't those she values in Zuko.

Azula has been on Mai's mind too frequently of late. She has been thinking about power, about her parents and Zuko and a crown. She doesn't really know whether she would want to be Fire Lady. But if her parents want it, then they will get their wish. That's what she's there for, isn't it? Her own desires, if she had any, are irrelevant. Mai supposes she should be glad she's not the ambitious type.

"Thank you, Your Highness." As if distance in address will keep Azula away from her.

"Soon you'll be able to hit the bull's-eye every time," Azula says, and she turns from Mai to look across the field, and Mai feels comfortable then in looking at her.

Azula has been painting her lips. They stand out against the skin of her face, and she looks so much older. She's not even ten yet. Mai wants to ask _why,_ wants to ask many more things, in fact, but she holds her tongue.

Finally she forces herself into motion, forces herself to walk across the field to retrieve her knives. She's digging one of them out of where it's embedded itself in the target when she hears the _whoosh._

She feels the heat pass by her face, feels the fire just inches away from her. Fear makes her freeze, and she forgets to breathe. Only as the seconds tick by and nothing happens does she feel comfortable moving again.

When she pulls back, Mai sees three scorched marks marring the painted canvas. They're still smoking. She turns her head just far enough to see Azula out of the corner of her eye. Her heart is racing, and even as she remembers how to breathe the few seconds of adrenaline keep her on edge. She retrieves the rest of her knives. She doesn't know whether she should be angry or afraid, but she doesn't think she feels either.

"I knew you wouldn't move," Azula says, and smiles. Her smiles look different when they're outlined in red. "You're too smart for that, right?"

"Are you bored of stationary targets?" Mai's relieved when her voice doesn't come out shaky.

"Something like that. _You're_ my target now," she says, still smiling, and the words and the smile make Mai shiver. It must be fear, but she doesn't feel afraid.

"Please don't burn me."

"Well, okay. Not today, anyway."

"Thanks," Mai mutters.

Azula stands still for a moment, and then without warning she has leaped into the air, spinning, one foot kicking out to send a fireball at the target. It seems to hit dead center, and then the whole thing catches fire, the fabric crackling and turning black, smoke staining the blue afternoon sky.

Maybe proper feeling is just catching up to her, but Mai thinks she might be afraid now.

"That's why you're supposed to use the metal targets for firebending." She settles for pointing out the obvious when nothing else comes to mind.

"Hm." Azula stares at her handiwork a bit longer before looking away. "Do you think people burn like that?"

Mai _really_ doesn't want to find out, especially since there's not anyone but her and Azula around. "In Agni Kais they don't."

"It's different," Azula murmurs. Then she shakes her head and her eyes regain their light. "I know something else we can practice."

"What?"

"Kissing."

" _Kissing_?" It comes out too loud, but Mai doesn't notice. Her cheeks feel as warm as when Azula's fire grazed past her face. It was a joke, right? A joke.

Azula looks a little pinker, too, but there's no sign of embarrassment in her voice when she speaks. "What? You want to get good for Zuko, don't you? And it's not like it's real. Like you said, we're both girls, right?"

Mai's never kissed anyone. She doesn't think Azula has either. And she looks at those red lips and can't help but be curious. It wouldn't mean anything. Not to Azula, not to her. And she has to obey the princess, doesn't she?

"Okay."

She sees the target burning and tells herself it's fear. She tells herself it's fear when Azula stands on her toes and when their lips connect. It's fear when she feels Azula's mouth hot against her own, wetter than she thought it would be, and when the heat runs down her spine.

Just an instant, an instant of weird squishy wetness and fire, and then they're apart again. Mai lifts a hand to her lips and sees red smeared on her fingers.

_What would Mom say?_

She feels a little sick, but Azula's smile is wider.

"Come on. Let's do it again."

"What if someone catches us?"

"I'm the princess," Azula says like it's an answer, and she moves in again, and it's fear that makes Mai's heart beat faster.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello, friends! Are you enjoying this?


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is more Ozula than Maizula...I'm sorry. I have no sense of scale. 500 words in and I panic.
> 
> Anyway, kind of major trigger warning here for Ozai/Azula and for emotional manipulation/coercion. You know what? Let's just say it straight. Ozai guilts Azula into letting him molest her. Why do I write these things?
> 
> Please proceed with care!

It's a cold day, but Azula is anything but as her fire dies away and she finishes her exhibition with a knee and a fist on the ground, her head canted respectfully downward. Her heart is going fast and her breath coming short, but she can't stop the smile that tugs at her lips.

She did it _perfectly,_ like she's never done it before, right when it mattered. Even with the nerves tugging at her with insistent fingers, she was unflappable. Impeccable. She's heard herself called _prodigy,_ but those who watch her bending can only know half the story; they have no idea of how natural it feels to have flames erupt into life from her fingertips, to watch and feel it charring the air around her. It feels much less like performing the routine motions of forms and much more like a dance. Only her and fire...and today, her watcher, more important than anything else.

"You may stand," her father's voice compels at last, and Azula practically bounds to her feet. She has more energy now than when she started. Indeed, insistent heat is pooling at her fingertips, urging her to let it loose once more. She settles for a jittery tapping of one foot and hides her hands behind her back so her father can't see her hands shaking.

Ozai isn't prone to large displays of emotion, but Azula is accustomed to reading him, and when she sees the corners of his mouth turn upward, the last of her nervous tension uncoils. A different kind of warmth suffuses her.

"Your tutors weren't exaggerating," he says, and stands too. A slight motion of his hand and she hurries forward to join him. They walk together to the edge of the training field, where the royal guards fall silently into place behind them. Azula watches her father's feet and takes three rapid steps for each of his long strides. "An impressive display. I've no doubt you could match some of the cadets."

"Thank you, Father," she says, and her breathlessness is only half-due to the exertion. The sky above is cloudy and the chill is starting to catch up to her, but she isn't thinking about that. She isn't thinking about Zuko or her absentee mother or her coward of an uncle. There is just her and her father and his praise warming her until they're inside again.

She's been in his rooms many times now, but the grandeur of the Fire Lord's chambers never fails to leave her awed. This place has known power and blood. All her ancestors, all the Fire Lords of legend, have stood where she stands.

( _Well, certainly after Sozin's remodel of the palace, anyway, and possibly since its rebuilding after the rebel uprising in Avatar Kuruk's time—)_

Her father sends a servant for tea and they settle together at the same side of a low table. Even here the wood is carved and inlaid with gold, and Azula resists the urge to lift a hand and trace the ridged pattern that decorates the surface.

She's _not_ a child any longer.

"We'll need to find you sparring partners soon enough," Ozai sighs. The servant returns bearing tea and Azula's favorite rice candies. She glances at her father, he smiles, and she supposes _this_ childish indulgence is all right.

"Not the other girls at school," she says, making a face. "They're all just— _entertainers._ " The other noble girls study firebending as an art, beautiful but never useful. They will never see combat. But Azula studies alone, her teacher a soldier himself, at her father's behest.

She overheard her parents arguing about it once. Ozai was firm on the matter. And now Ursa isn't around to interfere with what Azula wants, what she _deserves._

"My little dragoness," Ozai chuckles. "Yes, you'd burn them all, wouldn't you?" He kisses the top of her head, and then one hand steers Azula's chin gently upward and he kisses her mouth.

It's where she got the idea, but in the end kissing Mai is nothing like kissing her father. His lips burn against hers. He is steady and unmoving where Mai is always nervous and on-edge, ready to pull back at any given second. Practice, she said, and it is, and what she's doing now is the real thing.

Azula wishes Mai could have seen her today. She can imagine it, sort of, imagine Mai's stiff, reluctant smile, her short words.

_"Amazing, Princess."_

She hasn't told her father about the kisses or the way she feels when she sees Zuko and Mai smile at each other. She hasn't told him about sneaking into her mother's old chambers to see if Ursa's smell still lingered there. She hasn't asked him if he knows where Ursa went. She doesn't mention these things because she doesn't think she should be doing them, feeling them, wondering them.

She needs to _grow up_.

Her father ends the kiss and Azula breathes again.

"You deserve a reward for such a skillful performance," he says. She feels a hand at her waist and jumps a little. She's still sweaty, and she's perfectly content to simply sit there and talk and drink tea. She wants to say that his praise is enough.

"Father, I'd rather not," she begins.

It's surely her imagination, but she thinks his fingers are suddenly hotter where they've crept onto the skin of her waist.

"...Have I raised such an ungrateful child?"

His voice is even, but there is suddenly ice in her stomach. She doesn't know why she said it; _stupid stupid stupid!_ How lucky she is to be by him, to bask in the warmth of his approval, while Zuko lies a world of ignorance away.

"No! I'm sorry. Of course—I would be honored."

His fingers slip lower and she feels the familiar shivers up her spine. Then she hears an unfamiliar noise, one she spends a few seconds trying to identify before she realizes her father is undoing his belt.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Comments always appreciated!


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is nicer. And gayer.

"Maybe she's not coming," Ty Lee says, probably for the third or fourth time. She gets up from her chair again to pace across the room. She looks more natural when she's in motion. She wasn't made for standing still. Mai can't imagine seeing her sitting in a classroom all day.

"Maybe," Mai says listlessly. She doesn't know which alternative is less appealing, Azula showing up or Azula staying away. The nervous thrumming of her heart tells her it's the former. She'd regretted it almost from the instant she'd invited them, but reneging on the invitation wasn't an option once she'd put it past her mother.

She won't be surprised if Azula doesn't show. What does Mai's house have to offer compared to the grandeur of the palace? What does Mai and Ty Lee's company have against Ozai? It had just been a stupid fleeting whim, a chance to offer Azula a brief escape. As if she needs one. As if she wants one.

"She's been kind of terse lately..." Ty Lee paces between Mai's desk and the cushions where she sits. Mai watches the rug move under her feet.

"Has she? I hadn't noticed." Mai has noticed. But the comment gives her reason to wonder, as she has wondered before, what Azula is like when it's just her and Ty Lee. Does Azula throw fire at her? Lock her in that unwavering gaze? Do they practice kissing, too?

Phantom sensation burns against Mai's lips. Her cheeks warm too. She desperately wants to ask, but such questions would give away far too much, so she keeps them locked inside.

"Wait, are these yours?" Ty Lee has paused by Mai's desk, her fingers resting lightly on the paper piled on the wooden surface.

"Yep. Mom makes me practice calligraphy every day," Mai says, trying not to let her irritation creep too obviously into her voice. She isn't entirely sure how to behave around Ty Lee. They haven't spent much time together without Azula there.

"It's really pretty! Maybe you should give up knives and just focus on your penmanship." Mai thinks there's a note of teasing in her voice, but she isn't in a good enough mood to fake a laugh. She's a horrid hostess, she knows.

"Wouldn't my mother love that."

"Does she know about the knives?" Ty Lee leans against the desk. She looks comfortable enough there, but Mai sees her fingers drumming against the side.

"Not yet. Or if she does, she hasn't brought it up." Of course, there's always the possibility that Michi has discovered Mai's little secret and won't say anything, simply growing colder and more distant until Mai has no choice but to bring it up herself. It wouldn't be the first time.

"Must be tough being an only child. With all seven of us, my parents can't watch us all!" Ty Lee curves into an effortless backbend and makes upside-down eye contact with Mai. It's disconcerting, and Mai blinks.

There 's a knock on the door. Ty Lee springs upright. Her characteristic smile appears on her face, and Mai wonders if there isn't a little relief there too.

The door slides open to reveal the princess herself, accompanied by a servant. The man bows deeply and closes the door, leaving the three of them alone.

Azula is barely just inside the room when Ty Lee flings her arms about her. Mai watches Azula's face change, her lip curl, her nostrils flare. Caught in the embrace, Ty Lee can't see it. But Mai can.

"Happy birthday! I'm so glad you're here!"

She only releases Azula when the princess makes a small noise of irritation. Even when Ty Lee pulls back, Azula doesn't smile.

"You sound like Mai's mother." Azula puts on an ugly falsetto voice. "'I can't tell you how honored I am to have you here, Your Highness. We aren't worthy.' I suppose she put you up to inviting me." Her last words are directed at Mai, who just shrugs.

Michi hadn't put her up to it. But why tell Azula that?

"Anyway." Azula smiles at last, even if it's a reluctant smile. "Of course I came, Ty Lee. It would be cruel to leave you alone with Mai." And then she meets Mai's eyes and raises her eyebrows, and Mai feels something flutter in her stomach.

The afternoon passes. Dinner is a blur of delicious food and Mai's parents fawning over the princess. When it's dark, the trio goes outside and Mai presents Azula with her present, a collection of weird salts and plants that burn in every color of the rainbow. Azula sets them alight and the three of them laugh and watch in awe as purple and blue and green and yellow sparks fall through their fingers.

Then it's night, and the trio retires to Mai's room for the last time.

"Princess gets the bed," Mai mutters. "Ty Lee, the servants left us blankets—"

"We can all fit," Azula says levelly. "Not as big as mine, but big enough. Besides, Ty Lee's used to sleeping with her sisters."

"Yeah, like a real slumber party!" Ty Lee looks excited, and Mai could maybe argue with one of them, but not both, so she stares between them and waits for something to happen.

"Good practice for when you're my Fire Ladies," Azula says, and smiles.

"Stop joking about that," Mai says.

Azula raises her eyebrows. _Who says it's a joke?_

The princess sleeps in the middle. The bed really _isn't_ big enough for all three of them, so Mai feels Azula pressed up against her, warm as a furnace. Her thoughts race. She feels Azula's hair tickling her shoulders, her arm brushing Mai's back, their legs together. Mai creeps closer to the edge, tries to make herself as thin as possible. Her heart is going too fast to allow for sleep. She imagines and remembers kisses.

Would she rather it was Zuko?

It's her own bed, but Mai doesn't sleep a wink.


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you to everybody for your comments! I am very bad at responding to them but very good at reading and appreciating them.

It isn't a good day.

Ty Lee's enthusiasm is annoying enough already, but now every cheerful word out of her mouth makes Azula dig her nails further into her palms. She's been growing them out, and she's glad of it now, glad they're long enough to hurt.

"This place is so cool!" Ty Lee's voice echoes off the vast ceiling. It sounds too loud. Everything sounds too loud. Can't she understand that this is a place for hushed tones and reverence? Why is she always brimming over with cheerfulness; how oblivious can one person _be?_

Azula lights the torches with quick spurts of fire from her fingers, and the space, much too huge to be called a room, slowly becomes brighter. Even Mai can't hold back a quiet noise of awe then, and even in her current mood Azula can't deny the majesty of this place. She's never been here alone before, and never seen it completely vacant. She knows this arena is one of the oldest parts of the palace, a stage for the kind of legendary Agni Kais they learn about in her history class, and when she looks around at the monstrous pillars and their hangings she can almost imagine the spirits of ancient firebenders there too.

She's only seen it used once, when she was five or six and two of the highest-ranking commanders had a duel. She doesn't remember much, but she remembers that when the loser took his finishing blow, he didn't cry out.

In hindsight, she's surprised that Ursa let her see it. She has no way of knowing about the argument that transpired between her parents, about Ozai's firm and cold insistence that both of his children witness the way of the world.

This place is made for historical duels, not for her showing off to her friends, but the squall outside means that the training field isn't an option.

She _hates_ herself for wanting to do this, and with each step she takes she reprimands herself. Why should she want to show Mai and Ty Lee her skills? Why do they matter? Why is she so concerned with what they think? They aren't _important._

This morning she mentioned her plans to her father. She remembers the way he looked at her, the faint trace of disapproval evident in his eyes, and in an instant whatever excitement she had about inviting her friends over dissolved into embarrassment and shame.

_"If you think that's the best way to spend your time, Azula."_

She went through with it anyway, and now that they're here it's too late, but she can't stop herself from wishing that she hadn't asked, hadn't wanted to ask. She wishes she was better, was _perfect,_ was whatever her father wants her to be.

Walking hurts. She's been trying not to think about it. She has a lot of things to try not to think about. There are bruises on her thighs and it's been hurting to pee. But this isn't something to complain about, not when she knows that in battle she'll receive wounds that are far worse.

Everything is training.

Ty Lee bounds across the huge tile floor with a series of handsprings and a flip. She lands perfectly and twirls around with her arms out. Her face is guileless and joyful as she looks around. Azula wants to _burn_ that look off her face.

Mai leans against one of the stone columns. She gives Azula the slightest of smiles. Maybe on an ordinary day Azula would like that, but all she can think about are the much wider smiles she's seen Mai reserve for Zuko.

These are the companions she's chosen, a simpering idiot and a statue of a girl with the bad sense to crush on her brother.

Her father is (always) right. They're a waste of time.

She tells herself she doesn't care whether they're looking or not. It's just like practicing without watchers. She moves into her warm-ups, feeling her limbs loosen, feeling fire travel up and down her arms and legs. Her hips object when she gives an experimental kick, but she ignores the pain. Little by little, she calms. This is how she is meant to be. She doesn't feel their eyes on her. Her and fire, just like when she showed Ozai.

She moves into her more ambitious forms. She kicks and spins and jumps. She moves through her sets as she has every day for the past months. She is flawless.

She leaps off one foot and sends a flurry of fireballs toward the nearest column. When her right leg lashes out, she feels pain sudden and sharp and insistent in between her thighs. It is enough to distract her. She lands on the side of her foot and hears the _crack_ of her ankle as her weight snaps it.

She doesn't notice the pain of the rest of her body connecting with the tile floor. Her ankle is on fire. She can't think or speak. She doesn't hear the faint gasps of pain escaping her lips.

"Azula!" There are footsteps. She can't believe she humiliated herself in front of them. "Are you okay?" Is that Ty or Mai? She can't tell.

"Get someone." That's Mai.

 _No,_ Azula wants to say, but the capability of speech has escaped her. Other people can't see her like this. Her father can't know. It doesn't matter; it's just a stupid bone; she'll just keep going—

She tries moving her ankle and pain ruptures through her again.

She forces herself to turn over. Mai is kneeling beside her, looking grimmer than usual. She tentatively reaches out a hand and strokes Azula's hair.

"Ty Lee's getting help—"

"Get out," Azula rasps. "Just go."

It doesn't matter that it feels nice. It feels better when Mai's hand withdraws. Azula stares up at the distant ceiling and lets the pain of her ankle throb through her.

It's just another reminder that she's the furthest thing from perfection.


	9. Chapter 9

It's impossible not to notice her absence. Even in class, Mai feels a little on edge, like something is wrong. She ends up doodling in the margins of her paper and endures a lecture from the teacher when she's discovered.

Mai and Ty Lee eat together, just the two of them, and don't talk much about the last time they saw their missing third. Mai remembers a fierce storm, a huge dark hall, seeing Azula bend as she'd never seen it before. She still remembers the horrible sound, the incredulous look on the princess's face. Azula on the tile, her hair coming out of its impeccable bun, something far darker in her expression than a simple fall warranted.

_Get out. Just go._

Of course they know she's not _dead;_ people don't die from breaking their ankles. But it's been almost a month now, and Mai wonders.

One day, after school, she happens to catch sight of the prince on his own way home, escorted by royal guards. Mai's heart leaps into her throat. It's been a while since she's seen him; a while since they've talked. He looks more serious than she remembers. He's getting taller.

Guilt worms its way into her stomach and all of Azula's kisses burn on her lips. She doesn't know why. Azula is the one who said they were only practicing. But Zuko might be a way to find out how Azula's been doing, so Mai pushes the guilt down and hurries toward him.

"Prince Zuko!"

The guards level their spears her way before Zuko identifies her. He smiles and raises a hand in greeting. His guards lower their weapons. Mai bows.

"Mai, right?"

He remembered. She smiles without thinking about it.

"How has your....uh, knife-thing been going?"

"Oh, you know." With Azula gone, Mai has to resort to sneaking time on the school's training field again. Every time she's sure she's going to get caught, and then her illicit little side hobby will just be one more piece of her that's been crushed under her mother's heel.

An awkward silence settles around them. Mai is very aware of the silent soldiers standing around them, witnessing her fumbling.

"Um, I should..." Zuko gestures vaguely in the direction of the palace, and Mai nods Zuko has started walking away when she remembers.

"Wait! I was wondering how your sister was doing." She says it too fast, and it seems to take Zuko a second to realize what she said. His smile fades a little. She wants to rush to say something else, that it's not what he's thinking, that she's happy to see him too.

She feels like the things she's done must be obvious in a glance. Azula is written on her skin. Every weird, wrong thought that's invaded her head must surely be evident in the color of her lips.

But all Zuko says is, "Do you want to come see her?"

It isn't what Mai was expecting, but she nods again and falls into step beside the prince. She can't place her nervousness. Now the idea of seeing Azula adds to her worries. Maybe there's a reason the princess has been keeping her distance. Maybe when she told them to leave, she meant forever.

"Is it healing badly?"

"What, her ankle? No, I think it's okay. Father didn't want her to risk it getting worse, so she's been having tutors."

Bitterness runs through his voice. Mai glances sideways at him and sees his eyebrows furrowed. She doesn't know how to respond, either to what he said aloud or what his face says.

"How did you two become friends, anyway?"

Mai wonders that herself. She thinks a lot about when the princess happened to come across her practicing knives. Mai doesn't know how to think about hypotheticals. She doesn't know what she wants or what she's going to do. She's existing in the moment and trying not to think about anything else.

"It just happened."

"I bet you worship her like everybody else."

"There's a lot about her worth worshiping." Mai thinks of Azula's abridged demonstration for the hundredth time. She'd looked so graceful and powerful, made to be dancing with fire, made for the moment she was in.

Then the smallest error, and she had come crashing down.

Zuko looks sharply away, but not before Mai sees his glare.

"And a lot worth reviling," she adds quietly. The prince turns to look at her again, a question clear on his face and in the movement of his lips. Then he seems to think better of it.

* * *

Mai hasn't seen Azula like this before. Gone is the school uniform and militaristic clothes she always prefers. Now she wears a robe, hardly simple in the embroidery that covers it but seemingly informal nonetheless. At least Azula's hair is still tied up in its usual bun, her lips still painted red.

When the princess sees her visitor, different expressions flash across her face before she settles on her usual smirk. Her eyes are glowing. With a jolt, Mai realizes that she _missed_ Azula.

"How's your ankle?" she blurts, mostly to stop Azula from making some smart remark.

The kiss comes as a surprise. Azula's lips are as soft and warm as they ever were, and Mai thinks her heart might stop beating. She makes some noise and Azula pulls away. Mai's definitely red now. How silly to think Azula needed words to throw her off.

"Making up for lost time," Azula says.

"Your ankle?" Mai asks again.

"Old news." Azula waves a dismissive hand, but as Mai follows it, she sees something she didn't before. There are weird bruises on Azula's neck, red and purple splotches against the white of her skin.

"What are those from?" she asks before she can help herself.

Azula looks down at herself and her nostrils flare. She considers for a long moment, then raises her head and smiles a different kind of smile.

"Would you like to find out?"

 


	10. Chapter 10

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I cheated. This one's over 1000 words.
> 
> Trigger warning for sexual assault.

Mai's hair is growing out.

She's brushed it back behind her ears and raises a hand to play with it every now and again. Clearly she's as unaccustomed to wearing it down as Azula is to seeing it down. But it's beautiful like that, silken and shining, carefully washed and perfumed and combed by the palace servants. The black spills over her pallid skin and the burgundy silk of her borrowed robe. Azula allows herself the pleasure of looking and looking and looking.

Eleven years old and Zuko branded and _out of the picture_ are all more than enough reasons to celebrate. Today, she embraces the whims she would ordinarily dismiss as foolish wastes of time. Today, she indulges.

(And she knows she will regret it, that part of her is already regretting it, but _to hell with holding back.)_

"Must you stare like that?" Azula can only see Mai's face in profile, but she can still see her eyes darting in the princess's direction.

"Like what?" Azula asks innocently.

Mai sighs, apparently deciding it's too much effort to respond. There is only the sound of splashing water coming from the decorative fountains that adorn the spa. Azula dismissed the servants once they'd finished filing her nails, and now it's just the two of them.

Maybe that's what's put Mai on edge, her usual walls, the token resistance before she lets herself accept that she wants what Azula gives her. The same nervousness she exhibits before they kiss. But it's she who always ends up blushing and biting her lip, and it's she who always accepts Azula's invitations, even if now she sits awkwardly on a pile of cushions and stares the other way.

Azula reluctantly climbs out of her hot bath. She ignores the waiting towels. A few waterlogged steps later, the moisture is steaming away from the heat of her skin. Only her hair remains damp, a curtain stained black by the wetness.

Her own robe is carefully folded near where Mai sits. She glances up at Azula's approach, only to turn her head sharply the other way. Azula wonders if she's blushing. She gathers up the silken garment but doesn't put it on. She wants another reaction.

Azula has never understood modesty, not when she was a _child_ who knew nothing of sex, and not now when she has already given all the secrets of her body away to the only one who matters. Standing naked and watching Mai flinch away feels like power.

Azula's smile widens.

"I must say I'm surprised, Mai." Mai doesn't look her way, so Azula continues. "Your manners are usually so perfect, but you haven't even thanked me for having you over today."

"Oh." Mai's eyes flicker Azula's direction and away again. "I'm sorry. It was nice."

"'Was?' Do you think it's done being nice?"

"Sorry," Mai says again, and this time she does turn to look at Azula. Her cheeks are undoubtedly pinker than usual, but her voice is level. She keeps her eyes fixed firmly on Azula's face. "I'm just...tired."

"Well, we can't have that." Azula seats herself on the cushions beside Mai, close enough that her wet hair drips onto Mai.

"Please get dressed," Mai says stiffly. She really does seem out of it, and annoyance that she's failing to appreciate the day Azula went out of her way to prepare taints the princess's good mood.

"Why?" Azula keeps her smile in place. It's not quite the reaction she wanted, but when it comes to Mai, she's learned to take what she gets. Azula can't stop looking at that still face. The things she would do to know what Mai is thinking...

"Are you getting back in?" Mai's tone hints at an edge. This is wrong. Azula wanted happiness. But she's nothing if not persistent.

"I don't think so."

"Then..." Mai gestures uselessly with one hand and lets her sentence trail away. Her other hand is a fist in her lap. Azula looks at it and wonders if Mai wishes she had a knife.

"There are other things to do without clothes," Azula says. She feels warm. Invincible. She strokes her fingers through the silk of Mai's hair. It feels as good as she imagined. Up close, she can see a faint bruise or two on Mai's neck. She left them there. Preparation.

"Azula," Mai says very quietly.

"Mai," Azula breathes, and then she kisses Mai's shoulder. Her free hand moves to Mai's thigh and begins pulling back the silk there. Mai has gone somehow stiller than before. The blush has faded from her cheeks. Azula takes no heed. She sucks and nips the skin of Mai's collarbone and up her neck, and she knows that she's doing it right, and everything will end up okay after all.

The robe parts for her fingers. Mai isn't wearing any undergarments. Azula feels hair and slightly damp skin.

" _Azula!_ " Mai jolts, hard, away from her. Azula isn't deterred.

"Your mother's not watching. Come on, Mai." She keeps smiling and leans in again.

Mai jumps off the cushions. Her face is white, her mouth open, her eyebrows furrowed. It's an expression Azula has never seen her wear before, and abruptly the last good feeling drains out of the princess. She stands too, though she doesn't try to close the gap between them. The silk slithers out of her arms and she remembers her robe; she grabs it from the floor and pulls it on.

"What's wrong with you?" Her tone is cold now. Mai had her chance.

"I don't want to do this!"

"Why _not?_ It feels good. I'll show you."

The expression on Mai's face doesn't change. Is it horror? Disgust? "I don't care. This...isn't right."

"Right? What's so wrong about it? It's just like kissing!" Azula is impatient and angry. Her plans have gone up in smoke. She doesn't want Mai to look at her like that.

"It's _not_ like kissing." Mai is shaking her head. "Honestly, Azula, I don't know if we should have ever done the kissing thing. I don't know if we should keep playing these games."

Azula stares at her. Her anger swells. This is not how it was supposed to go. "This is about Zuko, isn't it? You'd rather have a scar-faced, dishonored troglodyte, is that it?"

"What? No! This has nothing—"

Mai's words don't matter. Azula's fury cannot be spoken down. She knew this was a bad idea, and she did it anyway. She remembers the crack of her ankle and the feeling that her chosen _companions_ were useless. She should have known it then. She should have listened. Why can't she just _learn?_

"Get out," she growls, just like that time, pointing a shaking finger at the door. "Go run home and touch yourself and think of my brother."

"Azula—"

" _Out!_ " she roars, and maybe the pulse of fire about her fists convinces Mai. She goes, not fast enough, and leaves the princess alone.

Azula stands and shakes and burns, hating herself, hating Mai, not understanding what went wrong. Shouldn't Mai have just shut up and taken it and found herself enjoying it? Shouldn't she have realized that Azula's favor and the pleasure are worth far more than whatever held her back?

She can't stop the tears. Azula rubs her eyes with a scalding hand and then leaves the spa, determined to find the only person she has left.


	11. Chapter 11

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Warning for self-harm of the cutting variety.

She is remembering what loneliness feels like.

She doesn't remember when she forgot. Surely not the first day when Azula approached her, or the first day she and the princess and Ty Lee all ate lunch together, but somewhere along the line she lost that horrible cold feeling. She was lucky enough to never have to realize she was lucky.

And now it's back, and she thinks she would do anything to forget again. Not forget being alone—she isn't so greedy—but forget what it was like to live without it, because it's only the contrast that really hurts.

Mai sits in the long shadows of her room. She doesn't bother to light candles or open the blinds on her windows. It's better in the dark. She plays with a knife between her fingers. The silver shines even in the dim light. The handle is inlaid with mother-of-pearl.

Azula gave her this latest set for her most recent birthday. With the princess's seal of approval, Mai's parents could hold no objection to her hobby. A better gift Azula couldn't have given her. Surely she knew that.

Mai slides her fingers along the metal and broods.

Ty Lee is gone. When she told Mai where she was going, Mai said it was stupid, but she knows she only said that because she's jealous. What a thing it would be to run away and never come back, to abandon her family, to find a new life somewhere else.

Ty Lee's absence aches. Azula's burns.

Mai can't stop herself thinking about that stupid day in the spa. She can't stop thinking about steam rising from Azula's skin, making her look more than human. She'd had that weird look in her eyes, and somehow her ever-present smirk had seemed different. Her touch had been as electric as ever. Maybe it was that that had sparked sense into Mai.

She was afraid. For the first time, she had looked at her princess and felt that she didn't know the person there at all.

She hasn't stopped feeling Azula's hand between her legs.

Mai doesn't regret turning Azula down. But she regrets the fallout. And surely going along with whatever Azula wanted would have been less agonizing than the silence.

She digs her fingers against the blade, but still it doesn't cut her. Pressure isn't enough. It needs force too. She's afraid, so afraid of the _bite_ and the _sting_ and the _blood_ , and she _hates herself_ so much for being afraid, for being lifeless, never acting unless acting upon, left here alone in her room in the dark—

The gasp slips from her lips. And the pain comes, as she expected it, and it hurts. But it doesn't just hurt. She pulls the knife away from her hand and studies the dark line across her palm. It fills slowly. Blood runs down her wrist. She wipes it away.

At first she thought that Azula's anger would be temporary, as it had been before. For weeks and weeks she'd hoped and thought that, while Azula avoided her at school, while there were no invitations to the palace. It _had_ to be temporary, because if it wasn't, she would end up just where she is.

The yawning abyss opens in the back of her mind again. There is a terrible sort of pain lurking around her edges. It hurts far worse than the throbbing of her palm. It reminds her that she is friendless, was only ever _not_ friendless by a random fluke, and that this is how it will be forever now.

Another cut to forget. Physical pain to drive away the emotional. And a heady sort of weightlessness comes with her self-inflicted lacerations, as she daubs away blood until her right hand is stained with it, pretending she's a soldier again, pretending she's anything other than what she is.

The seconds tick endlessly by, and as the cuts slowly scab over and the red dries onto her hands, Mai realizes that she's feeling better.

She rises from her bed and dips her hands into the nearby bowl of water. The wounds object as she flexes her left hand, but she ignores the pain and scrubs the blood away until the water is an ugly brownish color. There is a roll of linen in one of her drawers, and as Mai carefully binds her hand with it, she hopes her mother won't ask too many questions.

She catches herself thinking that next time, she'd better do it somewhere less obvious.

She doesn't have to resign herself to silence. She can chase down Azula at school, visit the palace, find some way to apologize. Given the chance to talk to the princess, she thinks she can make things all right. She has to believe that, anyway.

Maybe it'll require a kiss. Maybe it'll require more. _More_ isn't so terrifying now when she can't see Azula's eyes boring into her.

When Ukano comes home that night, he's grim-faced and short-tempered. He and Michi share a low conversation, and when all three of them are together for dinner, there is a cold silence. Mai looks from one to the other and waits for someone else to speak.

Ukano finally breaks the silence. "We're leaving," he says.

"Leaving?" Mai echoes blankly.

"I've been...given a new position in the colonies," he says. There is an awful sort of finality in his voice. Mai looks between him and her mother. Nobody smiles.

"We can't leave!" Mai says, incredulous. Her parents look at her. Such an outburst is most unusual, but Mai doesn't care.

"These are orders from Fire Lord Ozai," Ukano says. "Don't speak back."

As soon as he utters their ruler's name, Mai knows that this is her fault. She doesn't eat anything else. She sits numbly and thinks of the princess. How foolish to believe in second chances. She has underestimated Azula. The silly dream of an apology dies in the back of her throat.

She didn't want this.


	12. Chapter 12

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning for self-harm and Ozai/Azula.

The palace feels like a cage. The dim halls where she and her brother chased each other years and years ago, the suite of rooms she has inhabited for quite a while now, the imposing grandeur of the throne room—all of these things are the same, aren't they? Nothing seems to change in this place. Yet all of it, all the immensity, is claustrophobic now.

She supposes not going out to school any longer makes a difference. Now Lo and Li tutor her in all the subjects it's important for an heir to the throne to know. She attends the occasional war meeting at her father's side, goes to the barracks to spar, and learns firebending from Fire Lord Ozai himself.

He is relentless and strict in his teaching. Her mistakes are few and very far between, but he punishes each harshly. She doesn't need to be told anymore to hold out her wrists when she's done something wrong. She does it, silently, and her father presses searing fingers to her skin to add to the collection of whitish scars there. She looks at the burns in the night and reprimands herself more viciously than her father will ever be able to.

When she performs perfectly, when her fire blazes so hot it turns blue, when lightning crackles from her fingers, he says nothing. She understands, of course; perfection is nothing more than satisfactory, and all else is unacceptable. But his silence eats her alive just the same. He used to compliment her, she thinks. Not anymore. Neither do Lo and Li.

The word _perfect_ hangs above her like a guillotine.

But what a stupid, childish notion to desire praise, to believe she deserves it. If Ozai was not pleased with her, she would be like Zuko, scarred and banished.

(It never really occurs to her that she's halfway there.)

And this is what she wanted. She is the heir apparent to the nation's throne. The nobles and generals and servants call her a prodigy, and she knows it's true. Zuko and Iroh and _Ursa_ are gone, and it is just her and the only person that matters, and he loves her.

Love is the bruises he leaves on her hips. It's the cascade of words that pours from his mouth when he's inside of her, for indeed he's free enough with compliments when they're under the sheets: _so tight so hot yes yes so beautiful my little dragoness mine_ mine—

Love is the euphoria he brings ripping through her when he's so inclined, when all she can do is clutch the sheets and watch him smile as her world comes apart in a pleasure that tastes like sin and guilt and nothing good at all.

And love is spending infinitely long nights in the cage of his arms. Love is when he bores of a meeting and demands her during a recess, when he dresses her in her mother's old clothes, when he orders her to her knees.

He loves her. He has to. He is still there, unlike the ever-growing list of those who have left Azula behind. Lu Ten Ursa Azulon Zuko Iroh Ty Lee Mai—

She knows the feeling is loneliness. She knows she should be happy. She wears this knowledge like a shroud, and no matter her father's anger her own contempt and disgust for herself will always dwarf his. She is her own worst enemy. If only she could take a knife and _cut_ out the weak, sniveling thing inside of her, be left with nothing but the serenity that consumes her when she summons lightning.

On an evening after months of this silent battle, she finds herself sitting alone in her room in the dead of night, sleep eluding her. The nights spent in her own chambers are becoming fewer, but she doesn't particularly enjoy them. On her own, after all, there is nothing to do but think, and the thought of her father's smothering embrace seems a welcome one by comparison.

She is thinking, again, of that day in the spa, the look on Mai's face when she rejected her. She is certain that if it had been Zuko, Mai would have accepted. She cannot stop herself imagining the two of them rolling together, laughing, laughing at _her._

It's infuriating. She is everything. She has everything. Zuko is nothing but a stain on the royal family. And yet...

_He's easy to talk to. Kind. Open. Maybe you should care more about that._

They are all the same, all the ones who have left. They wanted something that she will never be. She's better off without them. And Ozai loves her as she is.

_That is the only thing that matters._

She has her own knives. Nobles like giving them to her as gifts, something as beautiful and deadly as she is. She unsheathes one, takes it in her fingers the same way she remembers seeing Mai do it. This isn't a knife made for throwing, but she gives it a try just the same. It feels awkward and uncontrolled as it leaves her grasp and buries itself in the wall.

A jagged gash in the wood. She wrenches it free, thinks of something different, and smiles.

It's an endurance test, she thinks, and she excels. It's incredible how little effort it takes to glide the blade across her skin, how easily the red wells up and drips out. Before she knows it, she's laughing, an entirely different kind of euphoria consuming her. It's so lovely, and somehow it seems to not hurt at all, and she wonders how many cuts it will take to sate this lust.

A servant interrupts her with a knock on the door, and Azula snaps from her trance. Instantly the wounds are repulsive and humiliating. She herself is stupid and weak to succumbing to such an urge. She washes and bandages them and tries not to think about it.

Neither the shame nor the bloodlust dissipate.


End file.
